


un coin de soleil

by dystopianDebaucher



Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 15:25:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13192974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dystopianDebaucher/pseuds/dystopianDebaucher
Summary: Now, his next task: to find Jonghyun in their next life. The current tally: 1-0.





	un coin de soleil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [junfhongs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junfhongs/gifts).



> _i'm super sorry i forgot the ships you wanted! and i don't think i fleshed them out well enough? so i'm sorry for that but i still hope you like it!_
> 
>  
> 
> \--
> 
> there's a lot of aus present in this story, i'm just not tagging them all since i feel like that'd be confusing? maybe it's just me, but either way i hope you all like it! for the mentions of the other pairs, they appear in the following verses:  
>    
>  **iv. ongbugi  
> **  
>  **viii. onghwang  
> **  
>  **ix. jren / baekmin**

**i. don’t let me go, i’ll be alright**

 

_“I’ll be coronated soon! Just one last! Let me go, father. I won’t cause you any trouble.”_

 

This promise should’ve never been made, Minhyun thought back, tears running down his face as he was being dressed, the crowd’s cheers echoing throughout the palace, the banging of the drums and roaring of the trumpets making his head throb.

 

—

 

The deal was that Minhyun were to have full freedom but zero support from the palace for a month, given that it was the Prince who suggested him regaining a sense of freedom before his coronation at the end of the month. It was a daunting reality he had to face, but he didn’t want to face it before being able to say he knew the people, for all they are, and knew his work, for all it is.

 

He always wanted to be the ideal leader, always strived for the betterment of his people. His heart is golden and has always been in the right place. Except this time, his father tells him. Not this time.

 

—

 

The first day was hell. Unsurprising seeing as he was literally evicted from the palace for his month-long freedom with nothing but the clothes on his back and a small bag with one set of clothes to change into and a hundred bucks. Now, one would think that the people knew their Crown Prince’s face and would recognise him immediately, but Minhyun’s only been showcased to their people thrice: during his birth, when he turned 7, and when he turned 16 when his position as the Crown Prince was officially announced and set in stone. Now that he’s in his mid 20s, no one could recognise him.

 

Not being recognised, he thought, was a blessing. He wouldn’t be mobbed and questioned about his position and upcoming coronation. Not being recognised, he corrected, was also a curse. He let out a sigh as he surrendered his bag to a bunch of kids wielding small knives who cornered him in an alleyway. He felt bad for them and he wasn’t willing to hurt a bunch of teenagers—the oldest was 16 at best—his self-defence, he mused, not to be used for this _particular_ sort of defence.

 

“Pathetic,” someone huffed, not all too impressed with how he handled the situation. The man who judged him so walked over, arms crossed and brows furrowed. “If that’s how you’re going to handle every situation, you’ll be out of clothes, limbs, and organs before the end of the week. You won’t survive the streets like that,” he comments further, rolling his eyes.

 

“They were children,” Minhyun reasoned, huffing back, puffing his chest out as he, too, raised a brow at the man. If he saw the entire thing, why couldn’t he help him rather than spit out spiteful comments _after_ he’s been mugged? “They were street rats,” the man retorts, sighing as he looked at the street rats’ latest victim, lips pursed in thought. “And now you’re one, too.”

 

—

 

Given that he’s been sheltered as a child, growing up in the palace, warming up to the spiteful man, whose name was Jonghyun, he later learned, came oddly easy. It’s only been two weeks and he didn’t quite understand why it was so easy for them to talk; maybe it was due to how similar they were in age? Or rather, how comfortable Jonghyun made him feel? It was a sight to behold, if anyone from the palace saw him now. His nose wasn’t in the books and his words weren’t stiff and, if he were to go by the words of his young niece, _boring_. He was finally able to talk to someone without all of the formalities the palace-life imposed, a smile never leaving his face whenever he spoke to (or was in the vicinity of) Jonghyun.

 

Jonghyun introduced him to a small band of friends he’s come to call his family after being abandoned by his real ones as a child, the streets being his home for the longest of times. This was when he found out that the economy of his country, though beautifully written and tabled on paper, made it hard for people whose backgrounds weren’t the cleanest to find work, which only resorted to their backgrounds becoming more and more… _dirty_.

 

“It’s true! Seongwoo couldn’t stand not speaking for more than five minutes and ended up muttering while in tears. He really needs to learn how to be quiet,” Jonghyun snorts, shaking his head as they all huddled around under one of the city bridges, their makeshift home made out of boxes and scrap junkyard parts settled prettily; they called it their castle, challenging the one in the middle of the city, the five of them making small jokes on royalty and the government here and there. This only made Minhyun more determined to give him and everyone a chance for a better life. It wasn’t his job to give them happiness, but it was his to at least give them the opportunity to attain it. Minhyun laughed along with them, telling Seongwoo he should learn how to shut up, only to be met with echoed groans and Jonghyun telling him he needed to learn how to as well.

 

—

 

His month was nearing its end and it’s his last week with them. He didn’t quite know how to tell them he was leaving—in fact, a part of him didn’t want to. It was hard, especially when the warm body next to him, curled up into a ball, held his hand as he slept as though telling him to stay. Jonghyun had become such a special person to him over the course of three weeks; they spent their time earning below minimum wage to afford bread for dinner, skipping over every other meal most days and sharing stories about how their day went and how they lived before they became a family (the latter mostly for Minhyun to better understand their dynamic). Jaehwan had accompanied him in singing the group a few lullabies before they were forced to shut up, their lullabies then turning into noise. Seongwoo had accompanied him for most of their market runs, the group telling them to use their faces to their advantage and haggle like their life depended on it (it did). Daniel kept him company throughout work, the two of them doing heavy lifting by day and small town patrols at night—who better to patrol the night than those who rule it? Hyunbin was the little brother he never had (nor wished for, depending on how clingy the boy was at certain hours). The two of them spent their days idly chatting about their future, Minhyun silently cheering him on and praying he could achieve each and every one of his dreams.

 

Jonghyun, he….he was special. Minhyun didn’t just share their life stories (save, of course, his position—he had to lie a bit there, and Jonghyun never quite questioned it, either), but it felt as though they shared their everything, as though the two of them had this understanding of each other that neither could explain, and the only thing he could think of whenever he was with Jonghyun was that he was beautiful and their shared existence at any given moment had explained why he lived on this Earth for as long as he did. All of it was to meet Jonghyun, he mused, being smacked out of his thoughts as said raison d’être had told him to hand him the damn makeshift hammer thrice now.

 

—

 

He was so in love, and he knew it. The both of them did—all six of them knew. Heck, the entire town probably knew, since whenever they were seen together the atmosphere around them seemed to turn pink. He was so in love, and they had to part, and his heart was already readying itself for its metaphorical death.

 

It was the day before he had to go back, and he’s noticed a few guards in his surroundings the past week already. He let out a sigh before he was brought to the alley where they met (a coincidence, really. Their little walk wasn’t supposed to take them this far), Jonghyun shush-ing him as he looked around. “We’re being followed. Have been for about a week. Do you know any—oh wait, you let children steal from you, nevermind. I’ll try to distract them and—“ “Jonghyun,” Minhyun starts, cutting him off as he smacked away the hand on his mouth. “It’s fine, I know them.”

 

The confusion on Jonghyun’s face was so evident, brows furrowed in concern as a pair approached them, his face turning pale as he stood in front of Minhyun, the little self-defence he knows seemingly futile in the face of the two large men. “Stand down,” he heard Minhyun say, the boy taking his hand as he moved to step in front of him instead. “I’m not due to go back until tomorrow.”

 

“We are aware, Prince,” one of them start, Jonghyun fiddling with his fingers—a nervous tick of his—as he refused to look up, staring the floor down and muttering silent prayers for it to swallow him whole. “However, plans have changed. The King has summoned you back, and he requests your friend to come along with you.”

 

—

 

_He should’ve said no. He should’ve told Jonghyun to go home. He should’ve had the power to save him._

 

“I’ve heard you’ve fallen in love, Prince,” his father starts, the two of them kneeling in his presence, the Great Hall devoid of anyone else besides the King, the two guards, and the two of them. The King’s voice echoed, his voice deep and stern. “We cannot have someone marrying your name before your coronation.”

 

“Father, he has nothing to do with it. I’m not—“

 

“The entire town you’ve settled into the past month has spread rumours of you two love birds. It’s reached _my_ ears, Minhyun. We can’t have your identity being linked to that of a street rat.”

 

“Well my identity was safe before you sent the guards,” Minhyun bit back, raising his head and looking straight at his father, the grip he had around Jonghyun’s hand tightening.

 

“Everyone knew you, Minhyun,” the King snorts, looking down at his son before he looked to Jonghyun, motioning to his guard to tell him to look up. “Didn’t you?”

 

“I did,” Jonghyun confessed, Minhyun’s eyes growing large as he let his hand go. “His features were far too distinct to not know. No one’s sure of his identity, it’s all hearsay, my King. Even _I_ was unsure until this.”

 

“And despite of these doubts on his identity, you went and _bewitched_ him?”

 

“I wouldn’t say bewit—“ “SILENCE!”

 

“My son,” the King starts, shaking his head as he raised his hand, the guard behind Jonghyun unsheathing his sword. “You are still too naive. I hope this serves as your final lesson.”

 

Minhyun couldn’t even utter a retort, a _plead_ , before his father had swung his hand down, the guard stabbing Jonghyun without a moment’s hesitation. A series of muttered ‘ _no_ ’s under his breath was all he could say as he moved to hold Jonghyun, all bloodied and on the verge of death.

 

“A proper punishment for a street rat that used the Prince’s affections for his gain,” his father adds, before moving to leave the hall.

 

“Jonghyun, please,” he pleads, tears rolling down his face as he tried to stop the blood, pressing his hands and applying pressure to the wound. “I’ll get help, just hang in there,” he cries, sniffling as he moved to get up to call for help before his hand was grabbed, looking down and seeing Jonghyun shaking his head.

 

“The King is right. I used your affections to make you see the true state of your Kingdom, to make you taste the bitter life we’ve had to live under your family’s rule. I did everything out of spite. I made you work,” he coughs up some blood, eyes growing tired, his complexion paling. “I made you sleep in the streets. I ordered those kids to rob you the moment I laid my eyes on you. I did everything in the hopes to make you miserable,” he lets out a small chuckle before coughing up more blood, Minhyun shaking his head all the while, telling him he wasn’t miserable in the slightest and assuring him that it was for _his_ own good that he’d come to realise the state of his country. “I didn’t mean to fall in love,” he smiles, reaching up to cup Minhyun’s face, the other holding onto his hand as he continued to shake his head.

 

“Don’t do this to me, Jonghyun. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. This is all my fault, I’m sorry. I’ll get you help, you just have to let me go and get some help first, alright?”

 

“Minhyun,” he starts, shaking his head as he muttered out no’s as the other spoke, smiling up at him. “I love you. Next time, in our next lives, maybe try and find me first?”

 

“I can’t believe you still have the time to joke at a time like this,” Minhyun sniffles, wiping his face with the back of his hand, letting out a small chuckle.

 

“Who said I’m— _cough_ —joking?” Jonghyun smiles, running his thumb across Minhyun’s face. “Be the best King there is, Minhyun. For me, for my family. Please,” he pleads, letting out one last breath before his hand fell, Minhyun frantically calling out his name as he held onto his hand, forcing Jonghyun to continue to cup his face, tears streaming down his face as his screams echo the halls.

 

—

 

The coronation went smoothly. He was welcomed by his people with smiles, the rest of Jonghyun’s family shocked as the watched him rise onto the stage to receive his crown. He had sent them letters of apology, notifying them that Jonghyun had left on his orders to another country. They weren’t dumb, they knew what it meant but still refused to believe it. Their youngest refused to believe the news and instead spent his days working. The rest resumed their lifestyle, the smiles on their faces faded as they did so. Minhyun wanted to apologise personally, to bear the brunt their spite and agony (as he should, he thought), but he couldn’t. He was the King now, and his purpose is to serve his people. Now, he had to create a safe space for them to work and live, he had to draw inspiration from them and build a better country.

 

—

 

After years of hard work, his hear greying as he sat on his throne, watching his grandchildren running around the Great Hall, he thought to himself: _I did good_. He’s kept tabs on everyone and so far all of them had been able to build their own families apart from each other, except for Hyunbin who had gone off to another country to find better work there (he reasoned it was out of spite, he couldn’t stay in a place that had taken his sun away from him; Minhyun would’ve done the same, if he wasn’t who he was). He’s made it so that everyone, no matter who, is able to at least find work or an opportunity to attain their happiness. It took decades, but he’s finally able to sit and tell himself he did well.

 

Now, his next task: to find Jonghyun in their next life. The current tally: 1-0.

 

**ii. it’s time to leave and turn to dust**

 

This lifetime, he’s built a family for them. This lifetime, he tells himself he won’t break them apart.

 

—

 

It was his turn to build a family for him and Jonghyun—at least that was the plan as he set up the orphanage. He built it two years after the war, the shabby house he tried his hardest in fixing still looking like it’s about to collapse at any given moment. He brought in all of the children he could, guiding them and teaching them how to work.

 

Throughout the years, he’s fostered more than a hundred children, teaching him all he knew—with some added knowledge from what he learned in his past life as King—from self-defence to arithmetic and handiwork. Though he wasn’t the King and he had no means to secure them any opportunities to not only grow as a person but also grow their own wings and leave the nest he’s created for them, he made sure that at least when these children do try to do so, they were equipped with all the necessary instruments and knowledge they needed.

 

—

 

He was in the middle of dying his hair, some of the children telling him his white hair’s grown some more, teasing him about it during lunch time when a familiar face knocks on his door. “Mr. Hwang,” the voice starts, Minhyun turning around with his hair up and his hands stained, evidently making the person by the door chuckle.

 

“Ah, it’s been a while, Seonho,” he smiles, placing the bottle of dye down on the counter.

 

“It has. How’ve you been?”

 

“Good,” he hums, gesturing for the boy to take a seat. “Old, dying, but still handsome.”

 

“Yah,” Seonho huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “Don’t say that! You’ll make everyone sad,” he grumbles as he takes a seat on the edge of Minhyun’s bed. The boy’s been attached to him when he first came, but seeing him now at the flourish of his youth, making a name for himself, Minhyun couldn’t help but gush about how proud he was.

 

“Anyway,” he tells him, cutting off his gushing fit, “it’s the cycle of life, Seonho. I’m past my prime. Been getting sicker by the day, too,” he adds, chuckling softly as he puts the tools for dyeing on the counter, leaning against it. “So, why the sudden visit?”

 

“It’s not sudden, I visit every other month,” Seonho reminds him, making Minhyun let out a small ‘oh’.

 

“Sorry, can’t remember much these days.” His dementia has been getting worse, his memories fading by the day. He passed down the task of teaching the children to volunteers, some of the previous batches of kids that have moved on coming back and helping him run the orphanage. This comment made him earn a concerned look from Seonho, the younger heaving out a sigh as he gets up and vaguely gestures for someone in the hallway.

 

“I wanted to introduce you to someone,” Seonho hums, bringing another boy in. “He just lost his parents, and I wanted to take him in but with how hectic everything is right now, I don’t think I can. So,” he starts, pushing the boy forward and gesturing for him to greet Minhyun, “do you have space?”

 

Of all the things Minhyun had started to forget—be it his daily chores, some of his close friends, the names of a few of the children he had taken in in the past—he could never forget the face of the person who gave him his reason for living. He looked like him, he was so sure it was him, even if he’s only seen Jonghyun in his latter years. The image of him as a young boy something even he was shocked by (and having lived for so many years, he’s seen quite the number of shocking things), the purity in his features alarming.

 

He gets down on his knees in front of the boy, wanting to pull him into a hug (but with his hands stained and his entire being smelling of dye, he couldn’t—not at the moment, at least) as he gets on his eye level. “We’ll always have space for new faces,” he smiles, though internally he tells himself, _the tally’s 1-1 now_.

 

—

 

He’s on his bed, resting and at peace. He could hear the children playing outside, the creaking of the floor boards echoing the halls as more children ran around the house. Minhyun thought back to how he was able to create this place with the thoughts of Jonghyun, how he was able to meet him once more—though given the circumstances, he couldn’t exactly profess his love or anything of the sort for the small boy—and how he was able to give him a proper family this time around.

 

_“Say goodbye, Jonghyun,” Seonho hums, finally having the stability in life he wanted, coming back to take Jonghyun in. It took him three years, but his hard work had paid off. He’s continuously supported and taken care of Jonghyun, dropping by whenever he can to give him gifts and play with him._

 

 _“Minhyun,” Jonghyun hums, earning himself a small smack to the back of his head as Seonho tells him to add honorifics. He doesn’t, but that’s fine with him. “You may have won this round, but you won’t win any others. See you next time, okay?” He smiles, Minhyun’s eyes growing wide in shock. They’ve never talked about their past lives before—he’s never been able to bring it up and given their circumstance, he never planned on doing so. He let out a soft chuckle as he waved goodbye, the boy giving him a hug instead before going back to Seonho’s side and leaving the nest he’s made for the both of them_.

 

He’s at peace now, and though he may not remember all of the faces he’s helped, all of the deeds he’s done, and all of the days that he’s lived, he’ll remember him. He always does. _Until next time_ , he thinks, closing his eyes.

 

**iii. this is how i live now**

 

He’s lost count of how old he was by then, the red stone at his core keeping him alive for far longer than he wished. It was hard, he only wanted this life so he could search for Jonghyun longer; he only wanted this life so he could be with Jonghyun forever.

 

They promised forever, and forever ended in the blink of an eye.

 

—

 

Jonghyun was 10 years old when he first saw him, he supposed, the young boy being taught how to ride a bike by his peers in the park where he had taken a short rest. He was just as handsome as he saw him in his past life—just as bright and full of hope. The boy was filled with the warmth of home, smiling and laughing as he tried and tried, again and again, to ride his bike. _I hope he doesn’t get kidnapped_ , he thinks, blinking repeatedly in nervousness, earning himself a few concerned looks from the passersby.

 

He couldn’t bring it upon himself to approach the boy, thinking he’d look far too suspicious, eyeing the _‘beware of kidnappers_ ’ sign beside the park entrance. It’s still too early to meet, he supposed, his body having stopped ageing during his mid-20s. He’ll keep an eye on him instead, he tells himself, he’ll watch him grow and make sure he stays happy.

 

—

 

Minhyun feels like a stalker. It’s been a decade since he’s started watching over Jonghyun, attending all of his graduation ceremonies thus far and clapping to himself in his little corner by the entrance of the University when Jonghyun went to check if he had passed (and he did). He’s happy, he assumes, if the prevalence of friends and lovers over the course of the other’s 20 something years of existence were anything to go by. Minhyun always sees him smiling, the number of times the boy cried he can count on one hand. So far, so good, he supposed.

 

He’s wanted to approach him for so long now, his heels itching to take that one courageous step. But then, what if Jonghyun’s forgotten him? What if his presence in his life would only lead to more misfortune? The boy he loves is happy now and more importantly, he’s alive.

 

—

 

Minhyun’s continued to watch over him throughout the years, watching him struggle with obtaining work, watching him get on one knee, watching him make a family, watching him smile all the while. The sharp pain in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach that emerged whenever the thought of ‘ _that could’ve been us’_ passed through his head was soon flushed out at the sight of Jonghyun’s smile.

 

It wasn’t directed at him, never has been, in this lifetime, but he was happy nonetheless.

 

—

 

It’s been 10 years and he’s made it a ritual of his to visit his grave every year during his birthday.  His stone was deteriorating—it seems like eternal life truly cannot be obtained. But the thought of death approaching his doorstep made him feel a sense of comfort; he would finally be able to be free from this prison he made for himself.

 

He was in the midst of cleaning the gravestone, kneeling in front of it as he felt someone pat his shoulder, looking over and seeing a small boy smiling at him. The smile was familiar; it was bright and it made him feel warm all over. “Yes?”

 

“Here,” the boy hums, taking out a small envelope and handing it to him. “My grandpa told us,” he nods, looking at the woman a few feet away he presumed to be the boy’s mother usher him to continue talking, looking back at Minhyun with a smile. “He told us to give this to the man who  would visit his grave during his birthday. We usually go later than usual so we’ve never seen you—we even thought grandpa was just making you up! But now you’re here and we can finally give this to you! I’m sorry it took so long, Mister.”

 

Minhyun’s eyes went wide as he took the envelope, getting up and dusting off his knees as he did so, bowing to the little boy and giving him a small and almost inaudible thank you. The boy ran back to his mother, Minhyun excusing himself from the both of them, finding himself back in the park where he’d first met—or rather, _saw_ —Jonghyun.

 

He opened up the envelope, his entire being starting to morph into a ball of anxiety as he took out the small piece of paper inside.

 

_Just so you know, the tally is 2-1. You didn’t approach me at all so this is your punishment for taking too long. I don’t know what you did—did you drink dry the entire fountain of youth? But anyway, you look great. 10 year-old me was amazed at how pretty you are: I almost forgot how much I loved your face._

 

_See you next time,_

_Jonghyun._

 

_PS: thanks for all the anonymous flowers. My favourite were the sunflowers, remember that for next time. Love you._

 

He didn’t know what to do with himself, his hands shaking and tears leaking. He felt like a broken faucet as he sat there in the park, letting out a bitter chuckle as he got up, covering his face with a cap as he walked back home.

 

The red of his stone was dulling, the smile on his face upon this realisation the brightest he’s smiled all decade.

 

**iv. i’m jealous of the way you’re happy without me**

 

Being born a beta means society has no expectations of you, no unnecessary constructs surrounding your being as you grow up. Being born a beta means there’s no such thing as a fated person for you, your entire existence stuck in a limbo. There’s no place for you in this narrative, Minhyun tells himself, _there’s no place for you here._

 

—

 

They were best friends before they became whatever they are now—friends with benefits? Maybe, but Minhyun couldn’t be bothered with the labels. His ‘help’ strained their friendship, and now they’re only together during certain periods of the month, Jonghyun’s heat cycle erratic and irregular.

 

This lifetime was different from the last, the obvious social hierarchies constricting their relationship into something so dull and lifeless, with him being in a position that didn’t even _allow_ him to love Jonghyun in the slightest. Was this how Jonghyun felt in their first life? When he was a prince? Maybe, but they never speak of their past lives much, the two only taking note of the tally _once_ when they first met, Jonghyun running over to him to invite him to join his circle in their university, accompanied with a “ _another win for me! That’s 3-1!”_

 

The both of them have been far too preoccupied with trying to break down this wall of societal constructs, the years passing as they’ve kept up with appearances all the while, the two of them slowly realising that their hearts don’t beat as fast anymore whenever they’re with each other, that the warmth has slowly began to fade and that the spark in their relationship had burned out.

 

—

 

Despite his acknowledgement that their relationship is going nowhere, the both of them far too cowardly to act and maintain their shared pulse, the fire in the pit of Minhyun’s stomach he thought had burnt out ignited once more at the presence of a new boss.

 

Said boss, namely Ong Seongwoo, the alpha of the year according to CLOCK magazine, had noticeably taken a liking to Jonghyun, Minhyun’s fists constantly clenched whenever they had meetings with him. Jonghyun had always hidden the fact that he was an omega, his relationship with Minhyun ensuring that this was never to be found out.

 

But a beta could only do so much. After all, he reminds himself, _he doesn’t have a place here_.

 

—

 

The two had obviously gotten along swimmingly, their officemates whispering about how the two had gone out on numerous dates throughout the couple of months he’s been assigned to this branch. Jonghyun and Minhyun kept up their relationship all throughout, but this month was different. This month, he truly lost his place.

 

Stepping out of the elevator, slightly haggard as he rushed back to the office when he received a call from Jonghyun, the sweet scent he expected to slap him in the face wasn’t present. He was told to come back for him, was told that his heat came early this month and that he was working overtime.

 

“Jonghyun,” he whispered, looking for him in the office and seeing no one there. He checked the bathroom, the break room, the smoking room, nothing. He tried calling but soon found his phone on his desk, heaving out a sigh as he continued to wander around the office searching for Jonghyun.

 

“Oh,” a familiar voice hums, Minhyun turning around to be faced with his boss carrying Jonghyun, obviously frazzled in his arms, asleep and calm. There was no sweet scent surrounding him and instead, a red bite mark at the back of his neck was seemingly glowing (along with some others scattered around his neck and chest area, currently exposed by the incorrect buttoning of his shirt). “You’re…” his boss trailed off, furrowing his brows in thought before he snapped his fingers, stumbling slightly as he held Jonghyun closer. “You’re Jonghyun’s friend, aren’t you? Hwang Minhyun?” He smiled, walking towards him as he gestured with his head for him to help.

 

“I don’t know where he lives, this really wasn’t supposed to happen now,” Seongwoo explains, sighing as he shook his head. “We were supposed to take things slow, so I haven’t even gotten a chance to visit his house yet. We’ve only been on five dates. Ridiculous, right?” A bitter chuckle, followed by another sigh. “I’m sorry, but could you take him home?”

 

—

 

The bite mark, the obvious attraction, the blossoming friendship and the rekindled fire that came alive due to another. It was hard for him to watch it all transpire in front of him, Jonghyun all but grovelling in front of him when he confronted him about it.

 

It was all so sad, for him and for Jonghyun. Why do things never work out for them, he thought, why did he have to live so many lives heartbroken and left behind?

 

 _Next time,_ he tells himself, _next time we’ll make it work._

 

**v. wake me up with your warm lips, just like always**

 

Living without knowing the light is hard. It’s scary, it’s painful, it’s traumatising, even. He’s had to go through so much as a child (and even as an adult) with his disability, the reality that he’s become a burden on his family daunting as he overhears his parents argue over finances once more. It’s not that he’s unable to work, but in this economy, a blind person isn’t exactly what any employer wants.

 

He wants to help, he wants to work, he wants to make everything right in this family and in himself.

 

The only thing that keeps him going is the memories of his past lives (or what he assumes to be his past lives, he’s not entirely sure but it’s thanks to these that he knows what the colour blue is and knows how it feels like to fall in love). He knows the face of this boy, the boy in his dreams, the boy that reminds himself that he’s loved no matter what, and that’s all that matters to him.

 

He lives his life like this; he tries to lessen the burden he has on his family, tries to help with the finances, tries to live a normal life in spite of his disability, and comes back to the boy in his dreams that allow him to feel warm.

 

He’s lived his life like this; his family’s broken but they were never really whole in the first place, he’s found work but the bruises on his body has only doubled, and the only place he found peace was in the arms of the boy in his dreams.

 

It tore him apart, how he was never able to meet the boy in his dreams, how he was never able to _see_ that smile that gives him butterflies whenever he lays down at night, the warmth lulling him to sleep. _Next time_ , he promised himself, the only promise that mattered throughout his life. _Next time_.

 

This is the first time the tally doesn’t go up, and he prays to every god in existence that this never happens again.

 

**vi. take my hand, take my whole life too**

 

He was in his fourth year of residency when he saw a familiar name written on his newly assigned patient record, tucking the clipboard between his arm and side as he rushed rushed over with two holders of coffee for the nurses at his station.

 

It’s been how many lives, surely it wasn’t him?

 

—

 

“Hwang Minhyun,” he says, drawing back the curtain as he made his rounds, shock evident on his face as he looks up to see the figure on the bed smiling at him, quite cheekily at that, too.

 

“3-2,” the man starts, letting out a soft chuckle as he gets up, groaning a bit as he did so. “You’re a nurse?”

 

“A resident,” he corrects, Jonghyun instinctively making a home out of the small space, taking a seat beside him on the bed. “It’s been six?” he starts, the memory of a life without meeting Minhyun making him heave out a sigh, “lives and thirty years. How’ve you been?”

 

“You’re the doctor, you tell me,” he smiles, though the light in his eyes dull as he watches Jonghyun flip through his patient record.

 

“Well you’re being transferred to a private room tomorrow morning and according to this you…” he trails off, feeling his heart drop down to his stomach as he reads on. “You’re….dying….”

 

“Sorry,” Minhyun hums, shrugging nonchalantly. “But hey,” he smiles, reaching to take Jonghyun’s hand in his, “the previous doctor said I had a week to live, and here I am! Now they say I have a month, so let’s make the most of it?”

 

He wanted to scream, wanted to berate him for seemingly taking this lightly, wanted to tell him off and tell him to take this seriously, but he knew that between the two of them, the one suffering over this awful reunion was Minhyun. Swallowing a lump in his throat and willing his nerves to calm down, he smiled back, lacing their fingers together as he replied, “Shall I bring you your favourite dishes or should I come back tomorrow morning instead?” He whispered, winking as he moved to get up, retracting his hand, the grasp he had on his clipboard making his knuckles turn white.

 

—

 

They spent the days chatting about everything and nothing; about how Minhyun had lived his life prior to winding up at the hospital, how in this life he was an only child and it got lonely sometimes since he had no one to bother, how he’d travelled the world to find Jonghyun, only to find him here in Seoul. Jonghyun, on the other hand, spoke about how he now has three nieces and a nephew, care of his older sister and (surprisingly) younger brother. It was hard being in the middle, it was like they expected everything from you while simultaneously expecting nothing. He wasn’t the successor to their small franchise business, that was his sister and her husband. He wasn’t the recipient of his parent’s favour, that was his younger brother. He just _was_.

 

They talked about their lives and how the both of them sometimes forgot about each other, but at the most random of times suddenly found themselves looking for each other in other people. Jonghyun talked about how he’s mistakenly tapped peoples’ shoulders thrice thinking it was Minhyun and Minhyun telling him he’s done that more than ten times already.

 

Their time together was spent without any awkward pauses, the two of them just _clicking_ like how they always have, the universe theirs to explore once more. It was like the two thirty year-olds went back to being children and were discovering the world for the first time again, but this time, with each other.

 

Jonghyun had never felt the need to be cautious of Minhyun’s condition, and Minhyun constantly reassured him that he was alright. The two spent their days in peace, Jonghyun being scolded at times for turning up to work with marks on his neck and swollen lips (and sometimes, a slight limp).

 

—

 

The lovebirds completely forgot about their deadline. It was supposed to be just another day, the two filled to the brim with light and love. It was supposed to stay this way, Jonghyun thought, this was what they were looking for all those lifetimes.

 

“Time of death, 6.08 PM,” the doctor calls and Jonghyun’s knees buckle in, collapsing on the floor, tears streaming down his face as he lets out a bitter chuckle. He throws the cake he had in his hands across the room, the nurses ushering him, helping him stand up.

 

“Happy birthday, you freak. Asshole, I even rented out that damn white chicks movie you’ve been so curious about. Your will better fucking have that 12.000 won rental fee in it,” he huffed out, his voice shaky, his entire body unwilling to move from his position, the nurses all but carrying him out of the room as he started to bawl, his cries echoing the hall.

 

—

 

He returns to his station with puffy eyes the next day, the nurses telling him he needn’t go to work for a while after hearing what happened. But he knew he couldn’t dwell on this much. Was this how Minhyun felt when he lost him? It was painful, the fact that sometimes during the day he’d forget his loss, only to be struck with this wave of loss, his heart beating loudly against his chest to remind him he’s alive, only for him to feel like he’s lost the entire organ altogether. He’s become numb by the time he’s had to clock out, shaking his head and smacking his cheeks to tell himself he needed to be better than this, to tell himself he couldn’t dwell on it.

 

“Kim Jonghyun?” A voice asked, the man the voice belongs to holding a bouquet of sunflowers, handing it over to him. “Delivery.”

 

—

 

_Sorry I had to go so soon, but at least we got to spend time with each other again. Are we really ever only given a month together?_

 

_Cheer up, we still have next time, I hope._

 

_I love you,_

_Minhyun._

 

_PS: I remembered._

 

**vii. all my world is losin’ light**

 

He has to stop him, he thinks, he has to make sure he doesn’t join the war.

 

—

 

“My friend! Welcome aboard,” a man greets him, all smiles as he pulls him in for a hug. He does the same to Minhyun, whose presence made the men aboard erupt into cheers. “The best of the best,” the man hums, patting Minhyun on the back. “We’re glad to have you on our side.”

 

He’s tried to talk Minhyun out of joining, tried to tell him it’s a losing fight. He’s told him heroes never end up happy, told him that their lives in the suburbs was ideal, that it’s been their best life together so far. Their tally was 4-2, and out of all their lifetimes, their current one allowed for them to grow up together, to watch their limbs grow and their bodies bulk and their skin tan under the sun as they played and plowed the fields around their home.

 

It was there that Jonghyun thought he had saved his lover from prophecy a passing seer had told him, his heart heavy as he’s kept the secret from Minhyun the past decade. He’s never believed in prophecies, never believed in the gods their people have revered. But the war was coming and his stomach had begun to fill itself with lead.

 

Minhyun had continued to kiss all his worries away the night he told him he’d participate in the war, telling him he’s returning the happiness he’s sighed out. “You can’t,” he starts again, only to be shut up with a kiss. “Let me tell you a secret,” Minhyun starts, pressing their foreheads together as they steadied themselves on the bed, the ship they sailed in heading for the battlefield as they spoke. “I’ll become the first,” he adds, their hands touching, Minhyun lacing their fingers together. “The first hero famous and happy. Want to know why?” He hums, pressing a small kiss to the back of his hand. “Because you exist.”

 

The ship they sailed in was headed for the battlefield, Jonghyun holding onto Minhyun as though he was his whole world (he is), their promise hanging over their heads as the prophecy continued to play out.

 

Minhyun was greeted by so many people, his presence a beacon of hope for the troops on the island, his father greeting him clad in his wartime garments, pulling him in for a hug. “Would this be how he looked when he grows older?” Jonghyun says to himself, a sharp pang reminding him of his— _their_ reality. “Right,” he mutters to himself, gripping onto his sheath as his repeated chants of their promise that night being drowned out by his realisation, “he won’t live enough to do so.”

 

—

 

He couldn’t bring himself to continue watching over Minhyun, the once prideful, powerful soldier clutching onto his body, refusing to let his decaying carcass go. He took him to bed, too, sometimes waking up to draw a blanket over his body upon noting how cold he was, until he breaks down crying as the realisation dawns on him. He couldn’t help it, he wanted to keep Minhyun alive. He didn’t think he would leave him behind, but if the best of the best would go down during the course of this war, who was he to outlive him?

 

He chanted apologies as though the other could hear him, thinking that his inability to shed tears would also render him incapable of feeling the pang of guilt in his chest. But it didn’t. He had no physical form anymore, no means to speak to him and tell him he’s sorry, no ability to reach out and feel his warmth against his own.

 

Jonghyun watched the prophecy play out, the arrow to his heel being his downfall during the fight.

 

“See you next time, my love,” he whispers to himself, a lone tear making its way down his cheek before he completely vanished, the pain of being the first to go, of watching the prophecy play out, of not being able to save him, the last pain he felt as he faded out of existence.

 

**viii. if you’re leaving, you would only take from me**

 

They drinking buddies in this life, their spare time spent at a bar near their office, taking on the universe one shot at a time. The two of them never spoke of their past lives, never mentioned their tally (though Jonghyun, entering the company two years later, made a mental note that it was at 4-3), never mentioned their feelings, nothing. They were drinking buddies and they left it at that and for the longest time, Jonghyun had thought he had found a place in Minhyun’s life that allowed for him to stay and to stay forever. Oh how wrong was he.

 

—

 

“So,” Jonghyun hums, smiling into his drink as he downs his fifth glass of whiskey, raising a brow as he noticed how jittery Minhyun had been the entire night. “What’s got you so antsy? You haven’t stopped blinking since we sat down.”

 

“We’re supposed to stop blinking?” He chuckles, downing his own glass of brandy— _peach_ , his favourite.

 

“Ha. ha. ha,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean. So, what’s up?”

 

“I can’t believe I’m going through with this but,” he starts, a small giggle making its way past his lips, the sound melodic as it puts Jonghyun at ease. “You’re the first person I’m going to tell, alright? Promise me you won’t tell anyone in the office.”

 

“Promise,” he hums, sticking out his pinky as a small (childish) gesture. Minhyun takes it, anyway, taking a deep breath before he lets go.

 

“I proposed to Seongwoo last night,” he giggles, covering his face with his hands, a small squeak following after as he bubbles and squirms in his seat. “He said yes!”

 

The bartender drops a glass at that exact moment, the shattered glass mimicking Jonghyun’s heart.

 

—

 

Sometimes, people would say that you could physically see and tell when someone’s heart breaks, and that’s just what he sees when he looks up at Jonghyun upon telling him the news of his engagement.

 

 _Ah,_ he thought, his heart throbbing in pain as he collects himself and orders another round for the two of them. _You loved me in this life, too._

 

**ix. nights without you twinkle too**

 

He’s built up his name in the business over the past few years, the 28 year old being one of the best wedding planners supposedly known to humankind (or at least according to the magazine he was featured in recently). He’s done it all: from beachside weddings to elaborate fairytale slash gypsy themed ones. This wedding planner does not disappoint.

 

This wedding planner, however, is greatly disappointed as his next client walks through the door, the face far too familiar for his liking.

 

—

 

“Of all the wedding planners?”

 

“I only want the best,” Jonghyun hums, watching Minhyun got down the notes his fiancé— _Minki_ , Jonghyun supplies—gave him for their wedding.

 

“Is this an elaborate plot for revenge?” Minhyun huffs, watching Minki dash around the event area, telling Minhyun all of his ideas.

 

“I don’t have enough money to waste for such an expensive revenge plot,” Jonghyun replies, shifting his weight to his other foot, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches Minki, gesturing wildly at areas he wants to be filled with various flowers and lights.

 

“Its nice,” Minhyun hums, lips pursed as he screamed back a few comments to Minki, his voice echoing before he looks back at Jonghyun, smiling. “You look happy.”

 

“Well, it took three rebounds and five years, but yeah, I’m happy,” he smiles, the wrinkles around his eyes making Minhyun’s heart ache. He used to be the reason for those, he remembers, smiling back. “You?”

 

“Dongho’s noisy as _hell_ but it’s a good thing I am too, I guess,” he shrugs, smiling to himself as he talks about his boyfriend fondly, missing the fond smile Jonghyun has directed at him as he did so. _This was nice_ , he thought, _we’re happy. Even if we’re not each other, we’re happy._

 

—

 

They were together four years, the two of them together during the prime of their lives. They saw each other at their best and worst, and unfortunately, their worst was what ended them.

 

“Why is it so hard,” Jonghyun starts, in tears as he looks up at Minhyun, the other slumped at the end of the sofa in their shared apartment, his breath shaky as he spoke. “Why is it so hard to be together when we both know we love each other?”

“I don’t know,” Minhyun replies, taking a deep breath as he blinks away the tears, the sight causing Jonghyun to laugh a bit, sniffling for a while before he spoke again. “Why won’t this ever work out?”

 

“I still love you,” Jonghyun adds, wiping his tears away, his hands trembling as he reached to hold Minhyun’s in his. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over you, you know.”

 

“Then don’t,” Minhyun pleads, wanting to drop to his knees, to _beg_ for him to stay. “We were doing so well,” he adds, squeezing Jonghyun’s hands. What had gone wrong? There was nothing rotten about their personalities, their relationship, their lives. They’ve kept trying the past year, kept trying to make it work, but it’s just not working and he couldn’t wrap his head around _why_ it just _won’t_.

 

“I want to ask you to stay,” Jonghyun manages, taking a deep breath before continuing. “But we both know you can’t.”

 

“I love you,” Minhyun adds, lacing their fingers together, running his thumb over the back of Jonghyun’s hand, a small gesture (read: habit) he developed throughout their relationship, an attempt of his to calm Jonghyun down (though really, the storm inside him raged on and he didn’t know what to do with himself anymore). The two of them got their chance, they were happy, they were together. But it felt like the whole world continued to conspire against them, continued to ensure that the both of them would never meet happy ends with each other. It took a toll on Minhyun, especially since he’s had to see Jonghyun leave him so many times before, and now he’s willingly waving goodbye, letting go of the hand he’d been so desperate to hold in his.

 

—

 

“You’ll be happy too, yeah?” Jonghyun hums, Minki having to rush to the office for an emergency meeting, leaving the two of them alone with the ghosts of their past in the corner of the room.

 

“Maybe,” he hums, chewing on his bottom lip. “He’s only my second rebound and you’ve had three, so…” he trails off, chuckling to himself.

 

“Not a competition!!” Jonghyun groans, rolling his eyes as he leans back in his seat, shaking his head.

 

“So says you, who constantly reminds me we’re at 5-3. Anyway,” he brings their conversation back to the matter at hand: the wedding. “I’ll plan it perfectly, don’t worry.”

 

“I won’t, I know you will,” he nods, moving to get up and grab his coat, Minhyun escorting him to the door as he leaves.

 

“See you,” Minhyun hums.

 

“Maybe,” Jonghyun smiles, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “next time, it’ll work out better for the both of us.”

 

“In our next life,” Minhyun chuckles, shaking his head. “This round was a miss, it seems.”

 

“Another one,” Jonghyun chuckles, a sigh following after. “In our next life,” Jonghyun echoes, taking Minhyun’s hand in his, giving it a light squeeze before he left, leaving hope in Minhyun’s palms that next time, they’ll work out. Next time, they’ll be happier.

 

**x.i. and i will not tire of you**

 

Self-censoring a name that’s fallen off your tongue so naturally throughout the years is probably one of the hardest things he’s done to date, and his experience as a trainee, as a leader, and as a survival show participant providing him with a _lot_ of hardships. But nothing could compare; nothing was as hard as this.

 

—

 

It’s been almost a decade since they’ve entered each other’s lives (for the ninth time, Minhyun claiming that he saw him first, putting their tally at 5-4), the trials and tribulations they had to face to chase their dream seemingly unending. They saw no end to the tunnel, no light to hold onto; his only consolation was that he was with Minhyun again, and with Minhyun came the peace that allowed him to sleep at night and find the will to function again for another day.

 

He could never explain their dynamic—for the past lifetimes, it’s always been just the two of them, finding peace with each other. It made the both of them dependant on each other, a red alarm blaring atop Jonghyun’s head whenever he remembered how vulnerable he was without the other. It was _bad_ , he thought, the alarm growing even louder as the survival show continued.

 

They’re not on the same team, they’re not together 24/7, they’re not _one person_. Jonghyun’s become so entirely dependant on Minhyun’s existence throughout the show that he doesn’t know how he’ll manage without him now. This was supposed to be the lifetime where everything worked itself out, but all of a sudden it just wasn’t.

 

The pressure was getting to him and he didn’t know where to put his hands when they talked, where to look when he passed by, who to seek when his limbs felt heavy and his body, cold. He had to get through this alone, he thought, he can’t become a burden on them ( _him_ ) any longer. It’s already been hard for the past seven years; this is the first time a flicker of light could be seen at the end of their tunnel, and he won’t mess it up for them.

 

—

 

 _One of us made it_ , he thinks to himself, holding back his tears as he congratulates Minhyun. He doesn’t care about anything else anymore; this means they still had a fighting chance in this business, that _he_ still had a fighting chance to achieve his dream.

 

“You did well,” he comments, patting Minhyun’s back as he tries to push out the thought of not being a constant in his life (at least for a year and a half, _just_ for a year and a half, he prays), reassuring him that they’ll be well and that they’ll do better. He just needed to be happy, to get the attention he deserves, and everything will work itself out.

 

—

 

“Stop making everything a thousand times harder for yourself, Jonghyun,” Minki comments, rolling his eyes as he kicks him lightly, forcing him to look up from his game. It was the night after Minhyun had left to go to his new dorm, his mood reaching an all time low when the clock struck midnight, the image of Minhyun lugging out his luggage instilling fear in his heart; the thought that he might never come back makes him freeze on the spot, his anxiety not allowing him to even say goodbye.

 

“What do you want now, Minki?”

 

“I want you to stop fucking around and pretend you’re okay all the damn time,” he replies, plopping at the end of the sofa, pushing Jonghyun’s feet off. “Look,” he starts, smacking his hip as a sign for him to sit up, which he does, a soft sigh following after. “The show’s over, Minhyun’s not here, and we still need to prove to everyone on this damn universe that we’re _worth it_. The last thing we need is you having a breakdown every 3 AM.”

 

“I’m _fine_ , Minki—“

 

“No you’re not,” another voice disrupts, Aron popping out of nowhere (he’s been there all the time, just going in and out of his room to fetch a few snacks), sitting in one of the chairs adjacent to the sofa, leaning over and looking at him with a raised brow. “Minki’s right. We get that you’re close with Minhyun, but he’s not the only one who’s been with you the past decade. We’re here to listen to whatever stories and whatever demons you have,” he hums, a small smile appearing as he sees Minki nod along with his statements, “you’re not alone, Jonghyun. You never were.”

 

—

 

Dongho joins a few minutes later after his shower, seeing the team huddled up in the living room making him automatically join in, being briefed by Minki before the boy continued to chide Jonghyun into talking. “Nothing’s gonna get solved with you keeping quiet, Kim Jonghyun. You know this.”

 

He heaves out a sigh before he curls up on the sofa, glaring at all of his members before he opens his mouth. “Minhyun and I…it’s _different_ with us. I…I’m sorry if this grosses you out or anything, but…” he trails off, heaving another sigh, “it’s just…he’s different. His existence in general is different from everyone else’s. Don’t get me wrong, you all are special to me too, but he’s just… _different_.”

 

“No, we get that,” Aron comments, nodding along, “what we don’t understand or rather, what we want you to understand is that no matter how different he is, you still have other people. _Different_ different people,” he smiles, reaching to pat the top of Jonghyun’s head. Though rare, Aron really knows how to handle things; he _is_ the eldest, after all.

 

This is when he breaks.

 

He tells them about the burden of being a leader—something they all know he struggled with over the years—and about how he doesn’t know who he is without Minhyun. How he’s attached his concept of happiness to being with Minhyun to the point that now that he’s gone, he’s listless and the tunnel’s suddenly gotten darker around him. It’s hard to explain—their relationship, dynamic, dependence—but he tries.

 

His anxiety has eaten him whole as he thinks nothing will go right anymore, their dreams, their careers, their relationship. He feels as though he has the touch of death, and it’s infected everyone around him. He’s taken the weight of the world on his shoulders and over the past decade, he’s started to slowly crumble. He knew how much the weight of the world took a toll on people, so he’s never asked for help—never asked help from anyone except Minhyun.

 

Even during their first lifetime, he couldn’t understand what made Minhyun become so special to him. He was just using him at first, a small attempt to educate his soon-to-be King and open his eyes to the reality of his country. But with Minhyun, suddenly the drab and dingy streets and alleys filled to the brim with death and pollution looked like some of the most beautiful scenes in the world.

 

—

 

_As a child, Jonghyun had wanted nothing more than for his family to be happy. That changed when his mother had left him in the forest, telling him she’d return for him—she never did. This opened his eyes to the futility of human relations and its finite possibilities. He never believed in people again—no matter how much he called his little gang of misfit street rats his family, there was a part of him that believed they should never be trusted, that they would leave him too._

 

_People were meant to use and be used. That was the reality he operated in._

 

_It was Minhyun and his talks of the universe and its secrets and the demons that lurk within that opened his hardened heart, his sweet lullabies and promises of a happier tomorrow lulling him to this sense of security he didn’t know he could ever have._

 

_Their hands touched, their fingers laced together, their bodies warm against each other. They were at the prime of their lives when they met, lost in the fire in their veins and the light in their eyes._

 

_“Hey, why do you think my heart beats this loudly when I’m with you?” Jonghyun huffs, pouting as he looks up at him. They’ve been together for two weeks now, Minhyun getting used to the jobs he’s hooked him up with, the confusion evident on Jonghyun’s face as he tapped his chest, as though it’d make his heart calm down._

 

_“You know,” Minhyun starts, smiling as he leans in, pressing their foreheads together. “My mother used to tell me the heart knows you’re in love before you know you’re in love,” he hums, pressing a small kiss onto Jonghyun’s lips. “And, well, I guess I love you too.”_

 

_—_

 

His entire universe was given to him by Minhyun and throughout all of their lifetimes, he’s given him nothing in return.

 

**x.ii. if all you wanted was me, i’d give you nothing less**

 

Minhyun couldn’t comprehend why Jonghyun drifted away, why everything just won’t work out for them, why the universe had this vendetta against them being together. They haven’t spoken in months, and whenever he tries he gets shot down, the rest of his members telling him Jonghyun needs space to calm his thoughts for a while.

 

It took them five months of separation before they started talking again, Jonghyun seemingly more comfortable in his skin. His skin beside Minhyun, however, was evidently stiffer than usual.

 

“How’ve you been?” He asks, tone cautious as he sits at the edge of Jonghyun’s bed. He’s taking a few new clothes from their home, exchanging it with some he’s worn over the past few months. “The place is cleaner than I expected,” he hums, fingers drumming on his thigh as he wills his eyes to stop blinking so erratically.

 

“Everyone’s chipping in for the chores,” he replies, refusing to make eye contact and instead focusing on Link on his switch. “I’ve been good, you?”

 

“Good,” he replies. Their conversations have never been this dry, never been this dull. “You holding up okay?”

 

With the tension in the room being so thick you could cut it with a knife, their three other exasperated members barged in the room (the door wasn’t closed in the first place, but suddenly having three people looming over the both of them made the two feel like they were children once more, in front of their parents after playing outside too much.

 

“The two of you need to have a _proper_ conversation, seriously,” Minki huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he nudges Minhyun with his foot. “ _You_ need to get over yourself and stop thinking that the entire universe is against you when _you’re_ fucking against you,” he tells Minhyun, lips pursed as he leers at him.

 

“And _you_ need to face your fucking problems,” Aron adds, words directed at Jonghyun as he watches Dongho snatch the switch away from him, placing it on his desk before he mimicked Minki and crossed his arms as well. “It’s not the universe’s fault the both of you are suffering. Fucking talk to each other before you jump to so many conclusions you dumbasses,” Aron groans before ushering the two other members out of the room, closing the door behind them.

 

—

 

The two sat in silence for half an hour, fidgeting in their respective corners of the bed before Jonghyun broke the silence. “So,” he starts, chewing on his bottom lip as he mustered up the courage to continue. “5-4.”

 

“5-4,” Minhyun echoes, a sigh following after. “When do we stop counting? You’re already winning so don’t get competitive on me,” he smiles, scratching the back of his head as he shifts his position to face Jonghyun more.

 

“When we finally get a happy ending, I guess,” Jonghyun replies. It takes Minhyun by surprise—he didn’t think he actually thought about their little game of tag through their lifetimes would end. It felt as though the trauma he’s received from all those past lives (especially the ones with Jonghyun leaving him behind—to live without the other, to carry that weight throughout his life without colour) that made him dry heave just from remembering them made him assume that there _was_ no happy ending for them.

 

“Do we get a chance at that,” he starts, inching closer as he looked at Jonghyun, gaze unsure as his instinct became to look at everywhere but. “That happy ending,” he starts again, shaking his head as he takes a deep breath, mustering up the courage to look at him properly again, to let their gazes meet once more. It felt as though he hasn’t looked at Jonghyun properly for the longest time, his heart racing as their gazes met, his cheeks flushed as he spoke. “Do we get a chance at that in this lifetime?”

 

“Do you want our game to end?” Jonghyun asks, a hint of jest in his tone, a small smirk gracing his features as he inches closer.

 

“ _Please,_ ” Minhyun replies, letting out a small whine as they pressed their foreheads together. “Let it end.”

 

**x.iii. it’s like we’re home**

 

It wasn’t the universe, it seems. The universe had been on their side all along. The universe crafted a way for them to talk about anything and everything, to find the universe in each other, to have multiple chances at their happy ending.

 

The two had constantly been too afraid to break whatever comfort they had in their relationship that neither took the first step to do anything with their gazes, lingering touches, attraction, et. al. The comfort of being with each other had lulled them into this sense of superiority while simultaneously blocking all doors to any opportunity to ascertain and solidify whatever relationship they had. They used thousands of excuses throughout their lifetimes: their position, societal pressure, the lack in labels, their families’ expectations of them, their jobs, status, everything under the sun was used as an excuse to not pursue anything further.

 

It was stupid of them, they know it, but they guessed they needed people to flat out tell them they’re being ridiculous before fully accepting this as a fact. Thank god they were blessed to have so much loving people in their lives, else their tally would last until a hundred and they still wouldn’t be able to break this damn curse they inflicted upon themselves.

 

—

 

It was the night after their comeback showcase as five and everyone’s high on the adrenaline it brought. Their success after Produce 101 was something they thought they could only dream of, at that point. And now, after almost a decade, it’s all coming true.

 

“We made it,” he tells his team, looking at everyone as he smiled fondly, the five of them huddled up before they dispersed to their respective rooms.

 

“Thank you, Kim Jonghyun,” Minki starts, tears streaming down his face, “for not giving up on us.”

 

“No one here gave up on us,” he replies, bringing them all for a group hug. “I’m proud of everyone. I’m proud of us. Thank you,” he hums, feeling the tears come, willing them to go back into his tear ducts as he let out a shaky breath. “For being in my life, for being in NU’EST, for not giving up on us, for not giving up on your dreams, for existing. Thank you.”

 

“Stop being cheesy!!” Dongho huffs, breaking the hug as he sniffles, trying to contain his tears as well. “You’re gonna make us all cry and no one needs a groggy, puffy-faced Minki greeting tomorrow morning, thank you very much.”

 

“Ya!” Minki screamed, attempting to kick Dongho before Aron had pulled him back to shush him.

 

“Well,” Minhyun starts, chuckling as he watched his friends, everyone on the verge of tears (except for Minki, who was already crying and he’s _sure_ he saw Jonghyun wipe a tear away), “everyone’s tired. Let’s all rest? C’mon, we have another schedule tomorrow night.”

 

“Minhyun’s right,” Jonghyun nods, earning an eye roll and an ‘of course he is’ from Minki as he ushers them all to go back to their rooms. “Let’s go to bed?” He hums, hand stretched out for Minhyun to take.

 

“Let’s go to bed,” he says, taking Jonghyun’s hand in his, getting up and following him to their room—Minki never let go of Minhyun’s room and Minhyun was more than willing to switch, anyway—the two curled up against each other as soon as their bodies hit the mattress.

 

“Jonghyun?” Minhyun hums, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Jonghyun echoes, his hands reaching to cup Minhyun’s face and tilt it down for easier access to his forehead, pressing a kiss to his forehead as well. “Sleep tight. Daily reminder that it’s 5-4 and I won,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to his lips before he moved to shift and bury his face in the crook of Minhyun’s neck, the bigger spoon letting out a sigh.

 

“Good night, winner,” he chuckles, pulling the other closer, their bodies pressed against each other as they fell asleep, humming softly to lull the both of them to sleep.

 

—

 

Game over. Final tally, 5-4. Kim Jonghyun wins.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you all liked it! thanks for reading! the title is french and it means 'the corner where the sun shines' if i'm able to translate it properly! (if i'm wrong please tell me!!)


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